Cabbages and Kings
by Alfsigesey
Summary: Jarvis Tetch kidnaps Commissioner Gordon’s daughter Barbara, to be the Alice in his twisted Wonderland. When she goes missing, all of Gotham begins a search for her. Feat. Ivy, Mad Hatter, Dick Grayson, pre-Batgirl Barbara, Scarecrow, Ms. Harley n' more.
1. Colville’s Glory

Cabbages and Kings

Summary: Jarvis Tetch kidnaps Commissioner Gordon's teenaged daughter Barbara, to be the Alice in his twisted Wonderland. When she goes missing, all of Gotham begins a search for their princess. Criminal and Dark Knight alike. (aprox. 7 years after TDK)

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the universe depicted in this fic. Just for funzies.

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I - Colville's Glory

Golden blossoms dripped from the branches above Barbara's head. The iridescent light in the greenhouse was overpowering. Being used to the gritty darkness and smog of Gotham, Barbara couldn't help but stare and soak in the sun whenever she found one of the special places in the city that was lit well, alive…. Green. Barbara raised the camera to one eye and checked the angle twice. Click.

She didn't need a flash in this light. The camera captured the image of the hanging flowers in the sun, that dripped like fruit; inviting and fiery orange.

"The blossoms match your hair colour perfectly," Dr. Isley told her from somewhere to her left, behind the curtain of vines that hung from the yellow and green tinted glass above. "Enchanting," she added.

"It's beautiful," said thirteen year old Barbara, "What are they called?" the flowers looked like fuzzy grapes hanging in great bunches from their branch.

"Colvillea racemosa… Colville's Glory," Dr. Isley told her, walking out from behind her plant-shield. "It needs a substantial amount of sunlight. Gotham isn't always the healthiest place for some of my children." She looked in concern at the plant. It looked perfect to Barbara, but Dr. Isley's expression suggested that she had noticed some ominous blemish.

She was a very young woman—younger than all of Barbara's other teachers. Not even thirty yet and Pam Isley already had a PHD and was working her way up from being a junior high school science teacher to a respected Botanist, in the higher intellectual circles in Gotham. She was a good teacher; she had a kind of nurturing aura when it came to her students. You wanted to trust her and like her, even when she was being harsh or assigning too much work, Barbara had never heard any of her classmates say anything negative about Dr. Isley.

Barbara watched her walk barefoot through the isles of plants in her greenhouse, her peach coloured gown twisted itself across her curves, while her red hair fell in an elegant curtain down her back. They weren't at school now. Barabara had come to Dr. Isley's house after class to take pictures of some of the plants.

Isley was half-way through preparing for a date, but she hadn't shooed Barbara away, she had just let the girl look through the greenhouse for nice angles and take all the pictures she wanted, while she sorted through a dozen different dresses, fixed her hair and applied her make-up. Every once in a while, Dr. Isley would dart into the greenhouse to suggest a plant or tell her a little about what she was photographing.

Through the lens Barbara caught a glimpse of Isley as she dipped low over a large blood-red blossom, her soft face lingered over the flower, pale and porcelain glossed. Her rich red hair nearly matched the soft peddles balanced on the tips of her manicure. Click.

Dr. Isley looked up at Barbara, with a coy smile.

"Sorry," Barbara blushed, "It was a good shot though."

"Have you looked through the books yet? I know you wanted to borrow _Scaramouch_... " she stood up tall, and inspected the hem-line of her dress again, still self-conscious in spite of the overwhelming evidence that she was stunning. "And I have _The Scarlet Pimpernel _too. I think you'd like that one."

"I'll go look," Barbara slipped the strap of the camera around her neck and half-skipped down the stairs from the roof and into the apartment below.

Dr. Isley's home had the look of belonging to someone much older than the young, pretty Botanist. There was paisley furniture and an old radio that probably didn't work, but held up a few more potted plants. There were no photographs on the walls, Barbara noticed, just a few decorative plates and an old clock. It was originally a two-bedroom apartment, but Isley had turned the smaller room into a den. The walls were lined with bookcases stacked to the outer edges with books, in the centre of the room was a small round tea-table with two matching chairs. Resting on the table was two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine.

Chateau Los Boldos, Cabernet Sauvignon, Barbara's eyes scanned over the label.

She walked past the table to the bookshelf and quickly found both _Scaramouch _and _The Scarlet Pimpernel_. She was about the leave when the ruby glitter of light from the wine bottle on the table caught her eye again.

She'd never tried wine before. Biting her lip, Barbara listened through the apartment before she decided that Dr. Isley was back in the bedroom, sorting through shoes.

Just a sip wouldn't hurt.

Barbara poured a generous mouthful into one of the empty glasses and put the cap back on the bottle, replacing it where she had taken it up. She didn't waste any time appreciating the musk, since she didn't know what to notice in the first place. She sipped a tiny bit, not even half of what she had put into the bottom of the glass.

The taste was warm and not very sweet. It burned the back of her throat. Barbara coughed once, inadvertently and then swallowed, expecting that the burning would go away. Instead, it grew more intense, she tried to breath, but her throat was tingling with fire—constricting her airway. She sputtered and coughed again, her eyes beginning to water from the lack of air and the burning sensation that was now crawling into her stomach like a fiery serpent.

"Barbara?" Isley's voice was growing near, "Are you okay?"

Barbara kept coughing, she made a sick, rasping sound as she desperately tried to suck air past the wall of fire behind her tongue. She felt something warm dripping into her hands and when she pulled them away she saw blood—she wasn't sure whether it was from her nose or her mouth. She fell backwards, just as Isley's alarmed face appeared in the doorway. The world shut out in a blur of blue and black nova-bursts.

..._scarlet days blend with pink and silver midnights and orange evenings and blessed be the patron saint of nothingness these are the blended whistles and chimes in the garden outside the skies I just wait till half past one million pocket watch notches to the time when it is alright to let the stars fall off your shoulders birds spiral downwards in the blackest eye of my latest core disaster and brilliance my latest fall off the edge of the world I could tell you everything if the eggshells were cracked under foot of my feet and maybe I will cartwheel for you better when these teeth stop chewing on my ribcage..._

"She's awake," the voice was like an aural balm, healing the razorblade slashes that were still ringing in Barbara's ears. It was soft and sombre, but there was a radiance to his tone that suggested the ability to laugh like the happiest man alive. As her eyelids fluttered open she saw the face that belonged to the voice.

He looked about twenty, but with an extra shade of maturity that suggested he had lived through more than some people four times his age. He was dressed in a tailored suit, the same black colour as his hair which was pushed back away from his face. His eyes were robin's egg blue.

"Oh, Barbara, honey? How do you feel?" Isley appeared next to the young man, her green eyes shimmering with tears, her mouth was painted a deep poisonous plum-red. Barbara looked around and realised that she was still in Isley's den.

"I-I'm so sorry!" Barbara was shaking, she tried to get to her feet, but the young man stopped her.

"Rest your head," he suggested in that voice.

"I'm so careless!" cried Pam, "It's my fault Barbara, don't apologise, I was using those glasses to mix a special plant-fertilizer earlier and I forgot to put them away-"

"-I'm sorry I drank your wine!" Barbara wiped at her eyes and noticed that one of them had wiped the blood from her hands and face.

"Who cares about that, you were _poisoned_ Barbara. I'm so sorry... Oh, Dick, I'm sorry, I think I'd better take her to the hospital-"

"-I feel fine!" Barbara's heart protested painfully at the idea of telling her parents about what had happened. "You don't have to cancel your plans and take me to see a doctor, just because I'm a moron, I really feel fine... but... how long was I lying there?"

"Just a moment," said Dr. Isley, "I gave you an anti-toxin right away," she flashed a little black bottle that was nestled in one hand, "I have to keep some handy... some of the chemicals I work with are pretty dangerous. The plants too." She put the bottle of anti-toxin in her purse.

"How do you feel? You look pale," said the man. Dick, Isley had called him.

"Oh, that's just my skin," Barbara heard herself say. There was something familiar about Dick. "Listen... Dr. Isley... can you... _please_ not tell my dad about this?!"

Dr. Isley was still looking very concerned at the young girl, but now there was a hint of confliction about her face too. "Are you _sure_ you feel alright?"

"Yeah," Barbara nodded. It wasn't entirely true. Her head hurt and her throat felt like it had been beaten raw by something with claws. "Yeah... I'm fine. I think I just passed out because I... freaked out when my nose started bleeding." she still wasn't sure whether it had _just_ been a nosebleed, but she really didn't want to tell this story to anyone. Ever.

"...I'll stay quiet, if you will," Pam finally relented. Barbara saw that her hands were shaking.

"That was so _weird_. I bet that's what a bad drug trip feels like—there was this _voice_, talking to me."

"What did it say?" asked Dick.

"Gibberish," Barbara shrugged, "None of it made any sense."

"Dick, it's alright if we give Barbara a ride home isn't it?"

"Certainly... I think we should keep an eye on her for a few more minutes, at least," he helped Barbara stand up, and she saw that he was holding her camera and school bag.

"Thanks, Mr. Grayson," Barbara said, taking her affects from him. She had just figured out why he looked so familiar. He was Richard Grayson. She had seen his picture in the paper five years earlier, after his parents were killed by a mob-boss and Bruce Wayne took him in. Her father had worked on that case. He looked different now, but she could still make out the reflection of the sad teenager whose black and white photograph had appeared under a sympathetic headline, in those blue eyes.

Isley slipped a shall to match her gown across her shoulders as the three of them moved out into the hallway. Dick helped his date arrange it against her shoulders. The two of them looked very classic together. The silver glimmer of his cuff links matched her earrings and they were the perfect height to look each other in the eyes.

Surreptitiously, Barbara snapped a photo of the two of them together. If Dr. Isley noticed she didn't make any indication, but Dick glanced at her from the corner of his eye before the little group headed to Dick's—actually _Bruce's_ car.

Barbara rubbed at her throat, then stopped, when she thought that the two of them might notice her doing it. She didn't want them to think anything was still wrong. It wasn't, really. Dr. Isley's anti-toxin had done it's magic. But the pounding in her head felt like that voice was still trying to tell her something.

* * *

Fun Fact: Thank you in Finnish is Kiitos. I learned that at a rock-concert.

Song of the Chapter: Lupe Fiasco, _Daydreamin_. I'm usually not a fan of rappers or rap-ists, whatever you fancy. But this is a really groovy tune by a groovy guy, and I think it fits with this first part, in a rather existential way.

* * *

(A/N: There are going to be moments when I reference things that happened in my other story _Mad Love: Beauty and the Butchered_, which was set five years before all of this. It's a Harley & Mistah J romance, so it pretty much has nothing to do with this story, but The Joker and Barbara have 'a moment' that comes up in this a little later. I'll mention it again in this story when it happens, just so no one reads it and thinks to themselves 'What is she _talking_ about?! That never happened!'. But you do not need to read that fic to understand this one. I'm just working on the same time-line, and it only becomes important at the very end and I will explain _why_ in this story.)

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	2. The Scarlet Pimpernel

II - The Scarlet Pimpernel

Mr. Grayson didn't pull the car away from the curb until Barbara was safely inside the apartment. She didn't live too far from Dr. Isley. They had been in this apartment for nearly five years. Her mother made them move into a new apartment when Barbara was six, after Harvey Dent lost his mind and threatened them all at gunpoint. It was Mrs' Gordon's way of coping with danger. Move into a new place, with new danger. She made them move again two years later, after The Joker and his psycho girlfriend broke in and tortured Barbara's dad for information about the identity of Batman.

The image of his gnarled face made Barbara shiver and drop her bag an inch away from the hook on the wall. It fell, spilling the books she'd borrowed from Isley on the floor. She leaned other and picked them up, licking her lips and remembering the stale taste that was left in her mouth after she bit The Joker's coat. He'd hugged her to spook her dad. She was only eight at the time; her defences were limited.

Barbara bit people when she was afraid, her mother made them move when she was afraid. Her father called Batman whether he was afraid or not.

She had never had a problem keeping secrets. As it was, most of the city was fully aware that the police didn't really _hunt_ Batman, and never had. He was the Commissioner's greatest ally... more than that; his best friend.

Barbara knew it. A few other people too probably, but they didn't talk about it.

Her mother was watching the news from the kitchen and stirring a pot of sauce for the pasta with distracted interest. There wasn't much interesting on today. Just a fluff story about Bruce Wayne being a no-show for one of his own parties again.

"It's a good day in Gotham when there's nothing more interesting to tell us about," said her mother over the reporter's voice.

"Nothing on dad's homicide case?" Barbara glanced at the television.

Her mother shook her head, "It's been over a week now... and there's nothing new to report."

"Getting stale," she grimaced.

"Yeah... Did you get any good pictures?"

"Yeah, I got loads of pictures. Dr. Isley's greenhouse is incredible..." Barbara barely paused outside the kitchen and went to her room. She set _Scaramouch_ and her camera on her desk. Resting there was a newspaper article she was meaning to pin up on her wall next she remembered.

A SECOND VIGILANTE

The article featured a rough snapshot of Batman and some second character in a cowl similar to Batman's, but sans the ears and with a cape that had a less rough cut to the hem... so it didn't look like batwings, it was smother; imitating feathers.

The story reminded everyone that previous to now, The Batman had been intolerant of other vigilantes, going so far as to beat them as severely as the criminals he fought when he encountered them, and turn them in to the police. Clearly, Batman and this _new_ vigilante were working together. The picture that had been so surreptitiously taken of the two of them showed no malice, they looked like they were speaking.

Barbara peered into the photograph. The new guy's suit looked slightly grey in comparison to The Batman's inescapable void of a black suit of armour. The lighting was bad though, it could have been any colour. Like any other time when a picture of Batman appeared in the paper, she looked closely at the face, trying to discern any facial features. Or even something as innocuous as eye-colour under the scowling mask. It was nearly impossible to figure him out. She still didn't know what colour his eyes were. Dark, probably.

Barbara cracked _The Scarlet Pimpernel _open and began to read at chapter one.

An hour later she was called into dinner.

"Daddy!" Barbara couldn't remember the last time he'd been home so early, they usually didn't get to eat as a family unless they waited until after eight o'clock or so. She hugged him, taking note of the scent of the streets that was permanently woven into his clothing.

"Hey honey, how was school?" he sat down at the table.

"Fine."

"James?" he asked her brother as he walked into the kitchen, "How was your day?"

He shrugged and didn't bother to take the hood of his jacket down when he sat at the table, but there was a genial half-smile shadowed under the blue fabric. He didn't like talking these days--his voice betrayed his progression from adolescence to adulthood, but he hadn't yet reached any kind of 'rebellious stage' yet. It was doubtful he ever would, one way or another. Gotham had knit their family close together, more specifically, the fear of losing each other had. Ever since her father had faked his death, they had been faced with the solid reality that it might be real someday.

"Are you going to show us you're pictures?" mom asked a few minutes later between bites of caprese.

She nodded, "I'm going to get them developed tomorrow after school... I might stop by the greenhouse again and take a few more first."

"What greenhouse?" asked Gordon.

"My science teacher, Dr. Isley has this amazing greenhouse on the roof above her apartment... she let me come over and take pictures. She has this collection of rare flowers and she takes really good care of them, they were all so beautiful..."

"How's the case?" her brother looked up from his meal.

"Well, we matched the poison to another murder about a year back--but, unfortunately we never found that killer either," he reported grimly, "But anything is something right now. We don't have a lot to go on."

Her father was working on a homicide case; a museum curator was poisoned the week before, no leads.

"Did you finish _Ender's Game_?" Gordon asked his daughter.

"Last night--it was excellent."

"Did you cry?" he smiled at her from above his glasses.

Barbara nodded.

"Me too," he chuckled, "What are you reading now?"

"_The Scarlet Pimpernel_. Dr. Isley let me borrow that, and _Scaramouch_," said Barbara, "It's not like any of the movies, really... If I hadn't seen so many, I wouldn't know Percy was the Scarlet Pimpernel yet and I'm almost seventy pages into the book."

"He's clever that way."

"Yeah... he acts like an idiot so no one suspects him."

* * *

Barbara was anxious to return to her book, but since her father was home, she wanted to take advantage of the rare opportunity to talk with him. He sat on his bed, looking over a number of documents spilling out of a manila folder. She crawled over to try and look over his shoulder at what he was reading, but most of it was remarkably boring for documentation related to murder.

"Is he working with you on this one?" she asked quietly.

Gordon frowned with one side of his mouth, making the wrinkles on his face momentarily look more severe than they really were. His hair was almost entirely grey now, he was getting older and tired, but he didn't show it yet in the way he moved or lived. "He's trying, but his information is as limited as mine."

"Did you talk to him today?" she leaned back against the bed-board next to him and thumbed at a tear in the hem of her shirt.

"Just for a moment... that new guy was with him. He still makes me a little nervous."

"What's he like?"

"Doesn't speak. He just stands over The Batman's shoulder with his arms crossed. Doesn't blink much either. He's got very blue eyes."

"Sounds a bit creepy."

"He is. But Batman trusts him. And I trust Batman."

Barbara giggled.

"What?" he looked at her curious, mirroring her amusement.

"It's just funny... Batman really doesn't scare you anymore, does he?"

" 'Corse he does," Gordon looked off, his gaze resting past her at some imaged presence, "But... not in the nightmare way. More in the way that... I've known him for over seven years now and I still don't... _really_ know him. I think I understand him though. I'm not afraid he'll ever do anything that isn't perfectly justified and morale--the way I used to be. I'm just... frightened that there's no one else like him," he sighed and put the paperwork away, giving up on getting any real work done tonight, "And what would Gotham do without The Batman?"

"What about this new guy?"

"The Robin?"

"Is that what he's called?"

Gordon nodded, "Yeah... I don't know about him yet. He moves like he's still a kid. Hard to see under the disguise, but I get the feeling he's young."

"Like an apprentice?"

Gordon laughed shortly, "That's possible," he took a lock of her hair from off the front of her blouse and threw it over her shoulder, "smart girl... If that's the way it is, then maybe there is hope... for a city _after _The Batman is finished."

Barbara shuddered, "Don't say that," the idea of Batman being killed made her nervous--he'd saved her father's life on more than one occasion.

"That's what scares me the most. Under it all, he's a man. He can't last forever."

"But the symbol could--_if_ this Robin is a younger vigilante who Batman is working with, then maybe one day he could take over as Batman, and no one would ever know the difference... except you."

Gordon looked pensive at that, "Would I?" he was quiet for a moment, stroking Barbara's strawberry hair, "I suppose I would."

"What are Batman's eyes like?"

"Very dark. That would give it away... if his eyes were suddenly _that_ pale."

* * *

She was over halfway through her book, but two things her father said kept pulling her back to reality and out of the fictional world of the Pimpernel. It didn't even really seem relevant at first, but she was thinking about what he'd said about the Scarlet Pimpernel and how he fooled everyone by pretending to be a vain, selfish fop, when really he was risking his life to save people all along. She was also thinking about very blue eyes.

Without realising it she stood up and left her book sitting on her bed. She paced over to her desk and looked down at the article she'd been meaning to hang up. She picked it up and stared at the photograph of the two extraordinary men. Wondering if either of them had another side to themselves. The Pimpernel had Percy. Maybe Batman had a real-world face too.

Speculation about _who_ the Batman could be, was not exactly a new idea in Gotham. It was the favourite pastime of many of the city's citizens.

A delicate fop.

A gallant hero.

In her mind she looked for someone who was both likely and unlikely... The newspaper gave her the answer, inadvertently. The light from the lamp overhead was just enough to make the words on the back of the page show up through the newsprint. The name WAYNE was crossing right over Batman's head in the photograph, the image of the masked hero slightly obscured the space between the Y and the N on the page. Her heart nearly pierced itself on her ribs from pounding into her chest as she flipped the paper around furiously.

On the other side of the newspaper was a story about Bruce Wayne going missing for three days the month before and how the reporter had deduced that he spent some time recovering in private, from a drug overdose.

The entire city knew that Bruce was an idiot... but he was rich. He had the means to live a double life and he did live in a kind of strange secrecy. This wasn't the first time he'd vanished entirely with no explanation. He was always pulling stupid stunts.

He was the modern day equivalent of a vain, selfish fop.

And he had a ward... a young man who had _very blue eyes_.

Barbara let the article fall back on the desk and stood very still for a long time, staring at the peeling wallpaper. She felt hot and overwhelmed. An electric current was travelling over her spine.

What did this _mean_? What should she do?

Bruce Wayne was The Batman.

* * *

Fun Fact: Blackadder is a great show.

Song of the Chapter: This has nothing to do with anything, but because I couldn't find a relevant song I choose Lily Allen's, _Alfie_ as the song of the chapter. Because... why not?

Soooo... waddaya think, kids? "Excellent"? "Crap"? "I'm still not sure yet, keep writing you twit"?

Share your thoughts.

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	3. This Size In 10 slash 6

III - 10/6

Dr. Isley and Barbara were closer than an average example of a teacher and student, but Barbara was fairly certain they were not yet close _enough_ that it would be perfectly normal for her to ask how her date had gone the night before. She was dying to know, now that she had deduced the night before that Dick Grayson was Robin. Her teacher had gone out with a dangerous vigilante. It was epic.

But she wasn't sure what she could say, if anything to get her to talk about him. And it didn't really matter anyway since Barbara had immediately decided that she wasn't going to tell anyone about this—except perhaps for people who already knew. Or possibly already knew.

She hadn't said anything to her dad yet. It was so obvious once she thought of it, that part of her felt sure that he already knew—or at least suspected that Gotham's resident billionaire moron was not really what he seemed. She wasn't sure whether she should bring it up directly, or maybe just make some kind of obvious hint that she had figured it out... or maybe she should just wait and see.

There was also the thought of confronting Mr. Wayne and telling him that she had figured out his secret. He'd probably just deny it, but maybe not. Maybe she could learn from him. She had aspirations of growing up to be something like her father. She wanted to help protect Gotham too. No one knew more about that than The Batman, and maybe he'd be happy to know that just as Robin was possibly preparing to take over for him, _she_ was planning to take over her father's job one day.

Or... no. That couldn't be in her mind yet. Barbara bit down hard on her bottom lip. In her mind's eye she imaged a new generation of Gotham's guardians. Headed by herself and The Robin. The fantasy slipped away quickly however, with the rational fear that she had inherited from her father.

He was right about there being no one like Batman. No really. He'd changed everything. They were dependant on him now, to keep the city from suffocating in blood and greed.

She asked Dr. Isley if she could stop by the house again to take a few more pictures and also so that she could return The Scarlet Pimpernel. She'd finished it late the night before, after her epiphany.

"Wow, you're a fast reader," Dr. Isley put the book back with her little mischievous smile on her face, enhanced by the same plum-red lipstick she'd been wearing the night before.

Barbara couldn't help but imagine the same lipstick smeared between Dr. Isley and Mr. Grayson. Intense green eyes staring down robin's egg blue ones.

"It was a great book. A fast read." She got her camera ready, moving into the greenhouse leisurely, half hoping that Dr. Isley would come with her so they could chat. "How was your date?" she asked in a weak, shaky voice.

Pam looked a bit surprised to be asked, but her smile stayed fixed, she might have even answered Barbara's question if the doorbell hadn't rung. "Excuse me," she turned to get the door.

Instead of going into the greenhouse, Barbara lingered nearby.

She heard the door open and Pam squealed. It was not a pleased sound.

"Hello, hello."

"_What are you doing here_?" Pam said through angry teeth.

"Shopping."

"Get out!"

Barbara froze and pressed close to the wall, she didn't recognise the man's voice, but Isley sounded so upset.

"Now Pam, how else am I supposed to get my favourite products from my favourite gal? You haven't been out and about recently, we've all noticed your absence."

"I don't care—you do _not_ come here! _Never_, hey—stop!"

He'd forced his way past her and strolled into the living room, from her vantage point, Barbara could barely see a sliver of him in the far doorway. He was a thin man, and rather small. He wore a long, shabby navy blue coat and a dark silk top-hat. In one hand he had a cane, which he twirled, the silver figure on the top of the cane was indiscernible from this angle, the glove on the cane was black leather to match the hat and the polished lacquer walking stick.

"Relax Ms. Ivy,"

"How did you get this address?!"

"Wasn't hard. Scarecrow and I had a session earlier this week. I told him what I needed and he said he'd tell me where to find you."

Isley made an angry sound in the back of her throat, "Get _out_!" her arm appeared in the sliver of light from the doorway and snatched the man's arm, thrusting him towards the door, but he pulled away and headed further into the apartment—closer to Barbara.

"I'm nearly dry here, Pam, I _know_ you've got the stuff I need, and look, I brought cash! Someone's got to keep you in this pretty little home with all your pretty little dresses."

"Look, alright—but you wait in the hall, while I get it."

"You got company?"

"Outside, now, or there's no deal."

He glanced through the crack finally and caught a brief glimpse of Barbara before she backed into the next room.

"Well, well, who is that pretty little rosebud?" she heard him say, but she continued up the stairs and into the greenhouse, leaving their voices far below her. Her heart was beating very fast. Had she just heard her teacher negotiate a drug deal? That had been what it sounded like--but she just couldn't see Isley as a dealer.

She went to the back of the greenhouse, weaving her way through the hanging tendrils of vines and the large leafy pillars that stretched upward to the golden sun. Her hands were shaking before she got her camera out and waited, listening for sounds below. If they were still talking she couldn't hear it, though she thought she heard what sounded like footsteps from the room below the greenhouse; Isley's bedroom.

She waited a full seven minutes before she felt safe enough to emerge from her hiding place.

Barbara found Dr. Isley sitting in her chair at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, she looked up and smiled a sleepy smile when Barbara entered.

"Thanks again... for letting me get pictures of the flowers."

"Oh, it's my pleasure... I'd love copies of your photos if you don't mind," said Isley. She seemed fine now, no longer aggravated or concerned. Maybe Barbara had heard wrong. She easily could have misunderstood the exchange between Isley and her unusual, unwelcome guest.

"Sure... I'm going to go print some out now. I can bring them to you tomorrow at school," Barbara put her camera away with her schoolbooks.

"Alright, do you want a ride?"

"No thanks, my mom said she'd get me from the cafe by the photomat in an hour... it's just around the corner," she started to head to the door.

"Alright... give me a call when you get home, okay?" The pretty redhead looked a bit distracted. She was running the tips of her fingers over the rim of her teacup, her eyes were glazed. The curtain in the window was green lace. For a split second the clouds blocking the sunlight moved just enough to cast glowing green light over Pam's pale skin. She looked ethereal and painted; a shimmering goddess.

"Sure," Barbara shrugged and was out the door. She couldn't quite understand it, but her chest felt tight and her head was swimming. Something strange was going on with Dr. Isley and that man.

Outside, the street was oddly quiet. The usual rush hour traffic was rolling in the street, but Barbara was the only person walking for a block in either direction, until he fell into step beside her. She jumped when he appeared from an alleyway, cane clicking against the sidewalk. He laughed shortly at her startled expression. His teeth were all tiny and sharp, slightly grey in the Gotham gloom.

It was the same man who Isley had been so upset to see at her apartment. Barbara hadn't gotten a good look at his eyes before, but they made her feel cold. They were noticeably bloodshot and mismatched, one was dilated and nearly black in colour, the other was a Smokey hazel. The wheat-coloured hair under his top hat was stuck close to his skin, wispy and frayed. There was a card stuffed into his hat that read 10/6.

"Hi there," he grinned at her.

Barbara swallowed and smiled weakly, she kept walking. His legs were so much longer than hers.

"How do you know Pam?"

"Dr. Isley is my teacher," Barbara said, clutching her bag a little tighter. She glanced left and right, so did he.

"I'm Jarvis." He flashed that smile again after he'd determined that no one was around.

Barbara didn't answer, this was starting to feel like one of those thing her dad was paranoid about. She couldn't explain it. She lived in Gotham. She saw creepy people on the streets everyday. None of them ever made her this jumpy before.

"Hey, stop," he caught her arm gently in one hand.

"What?" she didn't try to sound rude, but she was so nervous, the word came out sharply as she turned to face him.

There was a kind of silvery sadness in his face. She immediately felt guilty for snapping at him. His lips fell apart slowly, he hesitated to speak and then said quietly, "I just wanted to say... I think you're very beautiful."

"Oh," said Barbara, timidly, "I'm sorry..." she was about to do something fairly tactful; say that she was glad to meet him but she needed to hurry home or the like, but something stopped her. A cold, heavy, curtain of fog was pressing down hard on the top of her head. Her eyes had gone murky. She thought she could still feel his hand on her arm, but there was something else. A mosquito bite. She tried to bat the bug away, her knees gave, but something kept her from hitting the sidewalk.

_'Just follow the white rabbit, Alice.'_

* * *

Fun Fact: Ummm... this chapter is too short? That's a fact, right? The next one will be longer. I promise. Ish.

Song of The Chapter: Jefferson Airplane, _White Rabbit_. Oh come now, you knew it was only a matter of time before that ended up on here.

* * *


	4. Broken Sky

IV - Broken Sky

E. Nygma was still getting acquainted with the interrogation room when Gordon sat down across from him. This interview was just a formality--they had everything they needed to prove that he was behind the robbery at Gotham Museum, and the Commissioner was anxious to get this over with so he could get back to more serious problems. The homicide trail from last week was going cold fast.

"Alright, Edward, let's do us both a favour and have you just admit you did it... we've already got fingerprints and video evidence, not to mention this little love letter you sent me," he held up a roughly pasted-together riddle that had been left at the precinct the day before. "These weird little clues... you send them, Edward, because you _want_ to get caught? Is that right? So... we caught you. Admit you did it, sign this-" he pushed a packet of typed paper across the table towards him with a pen balanced on top, "-and let's both go home," he sighed.

"No uh... you're wrong," E. Nygma spoke for the first time. His eyes had been darting around the room, his lips moving rapidly as he performed some sort of necessary ritual. He was riddled with such a severe case of obsessive compulsive disorder that he couldn't let himself be comfortable in any kind of new place until he'd completed his little mental overview. He might have been counting the titles on the ceiling, or mathematically determining how many bodies he could pack in this room, how many butterflies would it take to breathe up all the oxygen in a hour? His twisted, uncontrollable mind was filled with these kinds of questions.

"About what, Edward?" Gordon tried to be patient, but he'd had a long day. He wanted to get _somewhere_ with this homicide before he could finally go home to his family.

"I don't want to get caught," he clicked his tongue five times very fast and mentally counted to twenty before answering, "I don't even like leaving the clues--it's bad for the job... there's usually someone clever enough to figure it out in time and stop me. It's not in my best interest but... I _have_ to," his hands trembled in front of his face. His pale fingers were twisted into angry claws. His wide eyes trying to express this compulsion, beyond his control, to the Commissioner.

"I understand... why don't you sign this?" Gordon tapped the paper again.

E. Nygma looked at it sceptically. He rubbed his hands together three times then picked up the paper gingerly by the tips of his fingers so he didn't touch any of the ink on the page. "Allow me to inspect it first," he said quietly.

"Certainly," Gordon waited and watched him.

His slanted serpentine eyes were intense on the paper, his lips moving silently again. His straight black hair was cut respectably and oiled to slick back off his face, but it was a bit mussed right now, as a result of being chased and caught by the police.

The Commissioner waited for several minutes, watching the man's eyes and the tips of his fingers on the page. After a while he realised that E. Nygma was still on the first page.

"Are you rereading?" asked Commissioner Gordon.

E. Nygma stopped and looked frustrated, "Yes... but only the lines that have letters that add up to a number divisible by three... now I have to start over."

Gordon waited in silence for a moment longer before he said, "In the time it takes you to count every letter on each line... you could have read the document several times,"

E. Nygma looked up at the Commissioner and frowned, "Now. I have to start over. Again."

Gordon raised his hands in submission.

Another few silent minutes passed while The Riddler read his confession, the door opened, "Commissioner," said Montoya, looking concerned, "Your wife is on the phone... she says it's an emergency.

"I'll be right back, excuse me Edward."

"Take your time," E. Nygma recommended, his eyes never lifting from the paper.

Outside of the interrogation room, Gordon took his phone from Montoya.

"Jim," his wife's voice was trembling on the line, "I can't find Barbara, Jim, she's missing."

"Missing?" Gordon repeated, feeling cold. It took a moment for his mind to fully grasp what this could mean. His wife kept talking, sounding hysterical.

"I was supposed to pick her up at the photomat, but she wasn't there! I went to her teacher's house, but no one was home, so I went back to the school and I called her friends and I drove up and down the streets between our house and Dr. Isley's and the store--and I checked back at home twice, James is looking for her too--but she's not... we can't find her!" she stifled a sob, "I came to get her at five, but she wasn't there."

Gordon glanced at the clock. It was after half-past six now. "Alright, calm down, why don't you have James go home so he can wait, in case she comes there... Have you been able to reach Dr. Isley yet?"

"N-no, she wasn't home. The school gave me her number but it went straight to voicemail," she swallowed again, "I tried calling you already but they said you were busy and I kept thinking I'd find her."

"I'm leaving now... I'll help you look. Where are you?"

"I'm at the store again."

"I'll be right there."

"Okay."

They both hung up and Gordon turned to Montoya, "Please, finish up with him for me... I've got to go. Barbara's missing."

Montoya didn't say anything, but nodded, her eyes had gone wide when the Commissioner reported that his daughter was missing. Neither one of them needed to say it, but they both knew--there were countless criminals in this city who would love to get their hands on the Commissioner's little girl.

She was a golden child. She would never run away, she was never careless. She always made sure her parents knew exactly where she was, and she always wanted to know where _they _were too. She was just as concerned for them as they were for her. She wouldn't be gone for this long--wouldn't be away from the place where she said she would be--if there wasn't something physically preventing her.

As Gordon left the precinct, he realised that this was sinister. She was being kept away from him by someone, for some dark devious purpose. He made the necessary calls in the car before he started his own search of the city. Gordon felt dread beginning to drown him slowly in blackness. It already hurt. He already missed her.

Please, he thought to himself, please let it _just_ be a ransom.

**Babs in Gothamland:**

The sky was broken and no longer blue, but a rich maroon, covered in cracks and canyons of violet and gold, stitched roughly together with rolling, twisting black storm clouds that cackled and screamed but never dropped rain onto the grey city below.

Her head hurt and her eyes struggled with the new colours. Looking down, she found that her skirt was hiked up almost to her hips and her legs were lying straight out in front of her on the sidewalk. Her back was pressed up against a brick wall, strands of her strawberry hair was snagged against the rough rock, as she got shakily to her feet, and pushed her skirt back down to it's full, respectable length.

Her mind was racing back to what had happened before now. "I was with Dr. Isley," she said out loud, her voice was a razor in the silence, it seemed to echo through the streets and across the buildings. She looked around to see if there was anyone nearby. The sidewalk and the street was empty. Gotham was never empty. Barbara saw that she was outside her apartment building. "how did I get here?" she was starting to piece the broken images in her mind into a story. She had left Dr. Isley's and that man… Jarvis. He'd introduced himself. He said she was beautiful and then the sky broke.

Part of Barbara was worried and aware that she'd been drugged. What had he done to her? She didn't feel hurt, or strange at all, except for the shadow of a headache. These colours hurt her eyes. Nothing looked right. What had he done?

Barbara ran up the stairs and into the apartment, as she shut the door behind her back she waited to hear her mother from the kitchen calling to her daughter in greeting, but it didn't sound. The apartment was quiet. Empty. As empty as the streets outside.

She looked around the living room and felt her blood chilling and turning to little shards of ice under her skin. This wasn't her apartment. Not anymore. This was the apartment their mother made them leave five years ago. Her mother didn't want to stay here, knowing that The Joker had walked over the shabby carpet. She didn't want them living anywhere that The Joker could find again. She had made them leave.

"We left this place," Barbara murmured. She swallowed, her throat dry and pained. Everything was as it looked before they packed up and left. It looked the same as the night that The Joker and Harley Quinn came to terrorize them.

A deck of cards was spread out on the carpet, along with a discarded baseball bat. Down the hallway, the bathroom door was open. Barbara felt ill as she walked towards the bathroom and saw the bathtub. Blood was smeared down the side of the tub and on the linoleum floor; her father's blood. The Joker had dragged him into the bathroom and tortured him with Barbara and her brother in the other room, listening and watching. (Author here: Hiya, for the full story on this little incident see chapters 3 and 4 of my fic Mad Love: Beauty and The Butchered.)

Barbara suddenly began to panic. Logically, she knew that The Joker was in Arkham. He'd been there for years, but the unexplainable imprint of that night made her feel certain that The Joker was in the other room, hiding in her closet or under her bed.

She bolted from the apartment, leaving the playing cards, the bloody bathtub and the bogeyman behind her heels. She hit the street hard and started running. She didn't know where she was going, but she couldn't stay in the apartment and wait for The Joker to come. She kept running… her home was missing the city was a wasteland. What had happened? She needed Batman. No sooner had she thought this then the broken sky cracked and lightning momentarily put a spotlight on a dark gloom castle on the hill.

Somehow, Barbara had found herself at the bottom of the hill on which Wayne Manor stood. A shiver coursed through her as she looked up at the black building. It had been rebuilt years ago, after Bruce had burned it down in a drunken rage. For the first time, Barbara wondered if that was the real story.

"You'll have to ask him," she said to herself as she approached the gate. The huge wroth-iron bars were laced with brown and green ivy. The locks were tight.

She could climb over it with the ivy and bars, but she didn't want to risk her dress if she could manage to avoid it. She imagined herself ripping the fabric as she climbed over, or else falling and getting it dirty.

Barbara glanced around, when she was sure that she was still just as alone as before, she started to unbutton the dress.

A whistle from behind made her jump and she paused in the middle of undressing; pulling the fabric closed. Over her shoulder she saw a red bird perched in a tree. It looked like a robin, but in reverse. The feathers on its chest were dark, while the rest of it was scarlet. Its eyes were very blue. The bird seemed to mock her, as it flew easily over the gate and landed safely on the ground on the other side.

Barbara frowned at the bird behind the bars. "That's unfair," she said, with a shake of her head and she continued to undress. Once she had the dress off she tossed her dress and shoes over the top of the gate, then proceeded to climb over the iron bars.

It was easy without the hindrance of clothing, but her feet were uncomfortable against the cold iron bars. When she got to the top, she dropped herself down hard on the path.

She rose and dusted herself off, then put her dress and shoes back on. The red bird had stayed. It was still watching her in the grass when she started to walk up the path, the bird fluttered behind her for a while before he settled onto her shoulder. She glanced at the bird, who swayed to adjust his balance and stay on her shoulder. She was puzzled, having never encountered a feral bird that would do that. He must be tame. Maybe Bruce kept him as a pet.

She started into a jog up the pathway towards the house, when she reached the doors, she was surprised to see that they were open slightly. She didn't bother to search for the doorbell amongst the vines covering the walls, but walked right inside and shut the door behind her back. The entrance way was an impressive, imposing sight of bronze fixtures and oriental patterns and carpet lining the floor and walls. The high ceilings looked misty near the top, the long staircase stretched up into shadow. The house was quiet, but Barbara felt confident that Bruce was just in the other room. She was correct.

"I'm sorry! I know I shouldn't just waltz right in…" She half expected him to release the hounds. Bruce himself seemed nice enough, but the Wayne Manor was an intimidating Gothic structure; the beautiful mysterious stone, ramparts and gargoyles whispered of shadow beasts; vampires, ghosts, ghouls and secrets.

Bruce didn't look like the lord of the black castle. He didn't look like a masked vigilante either. He smiled at her, "Hi. You're Commissioner Gordon's daughter, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

He didn't seem to register that she shouldn't be there. He jogged toward her. He was wearing casual sporty-type attire, like he was coming or going from a tennis match or the like.

"Last time I saw you…" he trailed off, looking slightly uncomfortable.

The last time Bruce (as the Batman) had seen Barbara she had been eight years old, recently rescued from The Joker, shaken.

"Bruce... I think I'm hear because I'm supposed to tell you something."

"Really?"

"Yes." She wasn't yet sure if it was entirely true—but it sounded right. He should know who knew who he really was. "I think so. I was reading this book... about a man who creates a persona so he can save people, and he acts like he's this shallow fool, so that everyone ignores him. Even his wife. He carries on this normal, uninteresting life so that no one suspects that he's actually this legend... he goes off and he saves people in secret."

He didn't seem at all shocked, he nodded, "Sounds interesting."

"It could be about you, couldn't it?"

He smiled at her genially, his dark eyes held nothing malicious at all, "Then, it's your secret now." He was taking it well. He didn't seem at all surprised.

Barbara surveyed him, curious at his calm, nonchalant manner, "I guess so."

"How did you figure it out Barbara? Your father…"

"He didn't tell me. I don't even know if he knows."

Bruce nodded and waited for her to go on.

"I don't really know. Once I thought of it... I just knew it was true."

"Do you think it's very obvious?"

"No… But there are other things. Other ways I could have thought of you. You've got the means. Money. I hang around my dad's work sometimes... I know how to think like an investigator. You have motive. The tragedy in your past..." she felt confident that he wouldn't want to talk about loosing his parents, "And your company used to have that really advanced applied science division. Military grade technology."

"How do you know about that?" he asked.

"An article in the paper mentioned it once, casually. It seemed interesting."

"You read the paper."

"Gotham has an interesting paper."

"Compared to what?"

"I don't know."

"…You're a very smart girl. Barbara. Do you have a nickname?"

She shook her head, "Just Barbara. Dad calls me Barb sometimes."

"Well, Barbara. What do you plan to do with that clever mind? Now that you know who I am?"

"…The Scarlet Pimpernel had people who he worked with. Friends who knew him and could help him. Not as talented, but dedicated." She spoke carefully, afraid to make the request that was waiting on her tongue.

"I have a few people like that."

"I've noticed… The Robin, obviously."

"And others."

"Who?" she asked.

"You're smart enough to figure it out on your own."

"Will you train more like him? Robin?"

"…It became, _necessary_, to bring Robin into this war. I never would have wanted that for him."

"Why was it necessary?"

"He's an adult. He's had my same physical training. The same psychological motivation. He wanted it, and I couldn't stop him. I couldn't give him a reason not to do it, that I wouldn't have to turn on myself."

"That much I figured out on my own." Barbara admitted.

"Barbara. I can't tell you anything you don't already know," said Bruce quietly. Around them, the walls looked unstable. The furniture was melting into the fine carpet. The colours were changing. The world looked sleepy and it was all whispering to her.

"…I don't understand." Barbara said.

"How did you get here Barbara? Look at the sky outside. Look at the bird on your shoulder. Did you happen to see a white rabbit on your way here?"

"This isn't real." she realised. Part of her had known it all along, but like a dream, she couldn't entirely accept it at once.

"No… I can't tell you what the real Bruce would tell you. I can't answer your question," his smile was fading, but his eyes were still kind.

"Question?"

"Yes."

Barbara struggled to form the words. She took a deep breath and finally let it come out of her, "…Will you let me help you protect Gotham? Will you make me your apprentice?"

"That's the one."

**Itriedtoputbreakylinesherebutffdotnetwouldnotletmedoittodayohwell**

Fun Fact: The title of this story is taken from the poem 'The Walrus and the Carpenter' that Alice first hears from Tweedledee in _Through the Looking Glass._ It's not actually from _Alice in Wonderland_. But the Hatter makes an appearance in _Through the Looking Glass_ as well as _Alice in Wonderland_, so I'm not bothered.

Song of The Chapter: Duran Duran, _Medazzaland. _That song is off of their album of the same title. It didn't do _real _well (it did horribly) but it's probably my favourite complete album of Duran Duran. The song itself tries a bit too hard to be freaky, but I think its groovy anyway, my babies.


	5. Real Broke Up

V - The Joker is real broke up about Babs getting herself all kidnapped.

Now that Barbara knew that nothing around her was real, she thought that she would notice fuzzy lines or stars bordering her vision. Or maybe, it would be like a lucid dream and whenever she thought of something she could make it happen, make objects appear simply by willing them into existence. That didn't seem to be the case however. She had left the fake Bruce at his imagined castle. He was right. He couldn't help her. He couldn't tell her anything she didn't already know, but that didn't mean that it would be completely useless to look for people or talk to them. They were just figments of her imagination—but like Bruce, Barbara felt that they would be able to reveal things she hadn't thought of. She needed a change of atmosphere. She needed to talk to herself in different incarnations.

She wasn't sure how this was going to help her escape from this place, but it seemed to be the only thing she could do; the only way she could help herself. Maybe she would learn _something_ from these apparitions. She found herself soon back on a familiar road, retracing her steps to Dr. Isley's house.

As she approached the quarter where Dr. Isley's apartment complex was located, she began to notice the grey light from the broken sky ebbing away. Light was trickling under her eyelids. The clouds in the sky were unable to completely block out the sun, and golden rays, as if at twilight descended onto the street.

The road itself was altered as well. It was cracked and broken like an earthquake had come to reshape it years ago, and growing in the little canyons was an abundance of moss and flowers. The buildings were covered with ivy that changed from brown to vibrant green as Barbara moved closer to Dr. Isley's home.

She paused when she reached the apartment building itself. The robin she had found at Wayne Manor had been perched on her shoulder through the entire walk, but now that she was coming close to a new location, he flew away abruptly, and left her alone. She turned around and watched the red-bird vanish into the darker parts of the city, then continued to walk on the golden and green path towards the apartment building, which was completely hidden under a blanket of green and flowering rainbows.

She could find the door. Tendrils of flora hung down from the sky, and the ivy on the walls was wrapped so tightly against the building that no stone was visible. Barbara began to wonder if there was stone under there at all, or if it was just a building constructed entirely of living plants. She began to walk around the building, looking for a hint as to how she could get inside and find Dr. Isley.

She circled the building, taking note of the dripping flowers. She recognised colville's glory, the grape-like blossoms from before, and there was an abundance of lilies and roses and thorny, exotic looking flowers with thousands of petals in all different shades.

"Barbara," said a voice. Titillating and throaty, but unmistakably belonging to Dr. Isley.

"Where are you?" asked Barbara, the voice seemed to be coming from all around her. From the mouths of the flowers.

"In here, pet."

Barbara turned around and saw a shape emerging from within the thick endless caves of vines that were formerly the apartment building. Isley's hands cleared a small path for her head to come through and the rest of her followed until she hung like the figure-head on a great ship of flowers and vines. She was naked except for the vines that still wrapped around her, keeping her connected to this living forest. Her skin was painted over with green spirals like her veins were her body's own vines and blossoms. They twisted over her breasts and stomach and down past her hips, moving and swirling like water. Her hair was a great red mane, wild and tangled in with her plants. Her face was painted like the rest of her body so that her eyes were like great purple blossoms and her lips were the parting peddles of a rose. She stretched out her back, and the plants moved to keep her supported against them.

"Ivy," Barbara said, remembering what Jarvis had called her.

Ivy smiled coyly, "That's right Barbara."

**Some people call him the Space Cowboy. Everyone just calls her Crazy. Or Harley.**

Ms. Harley Quinn was legally sane. She had been declared so after two years of good behaviour in her padded cell at Arkham. She had to bother the Arkham nannies for a whole year before they finally let her visit The Joker.

The other patients got visitors, why not poor Mistah J, right?

Anyway—she had been officially a free woman for three years—and for the last two, she had her special weekly visits at Arkham with her man. The useless days between these visits slipped by—oily and sleepy. She felt sick every time she left him to go back to 'real life' and pretend like she was perfectly content working at a Laundromat (night shift) and keeping her activities all legal and shiny.

At least... she couldn't get _caught_.

But, legally sane and actually sane are not nearly the same things. Legally, Harley was a reformed citizen of Gotham. Actually though… she was still The Joker's gal. She liked to remind people of that, subtlety or not so much.

Today had been her day to meet with The Joker at Arkham, She had left the asylum to go straight to work—_real work_—she was excited that The Joker had given her a task today.

Harley always bought two pairs of shoes she liked—one in red and one in black, so she could wear one colour on each foot; today she was sporting brand new baby-doll pumps. Her short legs were exaggerated by thick diamond patterned tights in the same black and red colour as her shoes. Under her black fur coat she was wearing a tight red dress with a very short hem-line. Her blonde hair was a mess of curls. People stared at her as she continued her strut down the sidewalk, led by two massive Doberman beasts on a chain that was wrapped up to her elbow.

She had bought the dogs a month after she got out of Arkham. She'd been lonely. She still was, most of the time, but her doggies helped. They were trained to attack on command, but Harley hadn't been persuaded to issue that order yet. People knew not to mess with The Joker's gal.

It wasn't late yet. Dr. Crane didn't typically appreciated daytime visits. He was on the lamb currently, and too many known criminals congregating to a certain spot frequently wouldn't look good. He'd probably have to move soon. Everyone knew where to find Scarecrow.

"Stay here, my babies," Harley nuzzled the dogs as she attached her chains to the railing on Dr. Crane's stoop, "Mama's gonna be right back."

He'd already seen her walk up before she'd knocked, so he opened the door while she was still saying a mushy goodbye-for-now to her precious man-eating demon dogs.

"Why, Dr. Quinn… How nice of you to stop by, may I take your coat?"

"Hey, Dr. Crane!" Harley wrapped her arms around the thin, worn looking master of fear.

He took her coat and hung it up for her, shutting the door behind them. "Something to drink?"

"Yeah!" she squealed, half skipping after Dr. Crane and into his living room. She stretched out on the couch, absentmindedly toying with her fluffy blonde mane.

Dr. Crane was a good man to have in your corner. He wasn't exactly the toughest guy in Gotham, but he was one of the smartest and he knew about fear. He was also kind of dishy, Harley had always thought. She was a one loon kinda gal, but under different circumstances the girl could imagine that she and Crane would have made an interesting match. He, on the other hand, always dealt alone. No one had ever known him to have a partner or even just a fling. In crime or romance, the man was a bachelor.

His piercing eyes were always planning, always wondering. Harley liked him because he had schooling the way she did—'cept he had actually studied like a good boy while she took an easier route. He didn't do it for the grade or public recognition... Dr. Crane actually _cared _about the mind. He liked to know how it worked. He liked to pick it apart with his teeth.

Yeah, Harley could dig it.

He picked up two glasses from the bureau in the corner and filled them with a dark liquid. Harley wondered what fake name the house was under. It was starting to look like a real respectable place; he'd been there a while. Dr. Crane's personality infused the décor. On the wall, she noticed a familiar painting.

"Hey!" she pointed to the painting, "Ain't that famous?"

Dr. Crane looked up from the bureau, "Yes, it's called The Nightmare."

"The kittycat stole that a year ago, didn't she?"

Dr. Crane smiled sideways at Harley and handed her the glass, "I've never had a taste for theft… Also, I was curious to meet her, so I hired her to get it for me."

"Pretty." She downed half the glass.

Dr. Crane sat down, across from Harley and took a sip of his own drink, "So—what may I do for you, Dr. Quinn?"

"Well," Harley smacked her lips together and momentarily fingered at the corner of her lip to make sure her lipstick hadn't gotten smudged, "I just saw Mistah J earlier, and you know, he's been so good that they recently started letting him watch the news again! He's all broke up about Gordon's little girl getting herself all kidnapped."

"Hum, I can imagine," said Dr. Crane.

"Yeah. He's got a real soft heart that way. He asked me to find the little princess and get her home, safe and sound."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Harley giggled, "I didn't believe it either. Truth is, Mistah J—you know how he likes to have things set up in advance? Not really like a plan, but more like a precaution... he's got half of Gotham wired with explosives. Been that way for years--he occasionally sets off a few. It's his way; he just does this stuff, because it might come in handy later."

"So, what is his interest in Barbara?"

"Not her, really. Daddy. He's got this idea of driving Gordon insane some day. He wants to use Barbara for part of it. I don't know exactly what he's got up his sleeve this time--but he needs her alive and intact, until things line up."

"I see," Dr. Crane eye's were bright through his glasses, a little smile was curling over his face, "Interesting mind your man has... I would have loved to work with him back when I was legitimate... or now, even. It must have been fascinating."

"Oh, it was." She gazed dreamily into her empty glass, remembering.

"He's been in a long time now."

Harley pouted and rolled her eyes, "Tell me about it. Five whole miserable years... hopefully not much longer now though. We're working on something," she looked meaningfully at Dr. Crane.

"So... it um... might be a good idea to do The Joker a favour now, is what you're saying?"

"Uh-huh." Harley grinned widely.

"Well, Dr. Quinn, I'm very happy to help you find Barbara. Let's just hope she is still alive and unharmed."

"Yeah," Harley sighed, "Poor little kid... You know everybody in this town Dr. Crane. Any idea who might snatch the Commissioner's daughter?"

"My first thought was a ransom... but we've yet to hear of a note--haven't we? I'm wondering now if it might just be a job of outright hate. A way to send a violent message to Gordon. If that's the case, she'll probably be kept alive and tortured for a few days before her body turns up."

Harley shivered and rested her hands on her bare shoulders.

"No... I can't think who would do this—without me _hearing_ about it, I mean."

He stopped talking, outside the dogs were barking. A knock at the door sounded to prove that someone was brave enough to walk past Harley's fanged bodyguards. Harley danced after Dr. Crane as he walked into the front entrance. She squealed in delight when she saw the lovely face in the window.

"Ooo, it's a prettyprettypretty _lady_--Dr. Crane--my, my, should I make her jealous?!" She slid her arms across his chest from behind, as he opened the door.

"No need," he told her, before he looked up at the woman in his doorway and said, "Good evening, Dr. Isley. Won't you come in?"

"You're a Doctor too?" said Harley, excited.

Dr. Isley walked inside, keeping her fur wrapped tightly around her shoulders, "Dr. Crane, I can't stay," she said, giving Harley a curious look, "I just need you to tell me where I can find Jarvis Tetch.... since you gave him _my_ address," she tried not to sound upset.

"Jarvis? What do you need him for?" Dr. Crane asked, walking back into his living room.

Pam and Harley followed him. Harley felt curiously at Pam's coat, sauntering along next to her.

"I think he may have kidnapped Barbara Gordon," said Pam, still looking at Harley with narrow eyes.

Dr. Crane had been writing on a piece of paper he'd taken from the bureau, he looked up at the two dangerous women, eyebrows raised.

"What makes you think that?" asked Harley clearly excited by how easy her task might be.

"Well I… I'm sorry, do I know you from somewhere?"

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel, put 'er there, toots!" Harley grabbed Isley's gloved hand.

"You were with The Joker, years ago," Isley's eyes got wide as she recognized who Harley was.

"Still am," Harley shrugged.

"But—he's locked up…"

"Yeah, it's a real bummer—I saw him today. He wants me to rescue little Barbie for him, actually, lucky you came along."

"The Joker wants to save Barbara?" Disbelief and suspicion shadowed her face.

"Yeah, he's got a soft spot for Gordon. Go figure!"

Dr. Crane crumpled the paper up and closed the bureau, "I'll get my coat."

"What's going on?" Isley furrowed her brow.

"We're coming with you, Dr…?"

"Isley. Pamela Isley."

"No kidding! I've heard of you—you offed that scientist at Wayne Enterprises last year, didn't ya? That was impressive—you've got style, sugar."

"T-thank you… I didn't realise I was well-known."

"Sure, the underground Gotham knows Poison Ivy—don't cross her, that's what they say… I only know your real name 'cause of puddin'—being in Arkham and all, he hears things."

"The Joker's heard of me?"

"Sure… I like this—is it real?"

"Faux. It's supposed to feel like rabbit."

"Pretty."

Dr. Crane had come back, he had a long black coat on, and he had Harley's jacket over one arm, "Ladies… right this way."

**breakylinebreakylinebreakyline**

Fun Fact: Check out Fuseli's The Nightmare if you don't know it. Art is awesome. You dig?

Song of the Chapter: I'm gonna go with Steve Miller Band's _The Joker_. Just because I referenced it above. I was planning to save it for later, but I'm just not sure it'll ever be appropriate. So, I might as well use it for this chapter. Or, I can always use it _again_. I do make the rules, after all. I'll implement this new rule right now. I am totally allowed to use a 'Song of The Chapter' song, more than once, as long as the song represents a certain level of groovyness. The great thing about this song is that it never fails to make me smile.


End file.
